


Namaste

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto/Kuroo are the ultimate BROTP, Bottom!Bokuto, College!AU, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Yoga Instructor!Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: When Bokuto’s mood swings become a problem for his team, the coach orders Bokuto to attend yoga classes to try and relax. It’s difficult to relax, however, when Bokuto can’t stop staring at his impossibly attractive yoga teacher.Akaashi is a perfect, extremely flexible specimen of a man, Bokuto is smitten, and private lessons go much better than expected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Namaste](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162501) by [YuiMakino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuiMakino/pseuds/YuiMakino)



> Akaashi in yoga pants is my aesthetic.
> 
> I was sick today, so I stayed home and wrote this. It's much more productive than actual work, in my humble opinion.

They made it all the way across the parking lot, through the front of the building, and to the door of the correct room before Bokuto balked.

“I don’t want to do this,” he said, falling back. “It’s not going to be fun. I’m going to look stupid. Kuroo, please don’t make me.”

“I’m not making you,” said Kuroo. “Coach is. He said it’ll help you calm down a little bit.”

“I don’t need to calm down,” Bokuto insisted. “I’m good. I’m fine. I’m mellow.”

Kuroo raised a brow at him. “You had three meltdowns in our last game, Bo. _Three_. That’s, like, one more than usual.”

Bokuto seemed to shrink a little. “It was a rough day,” he mumbled. His lip jutted out a little in the beginning of a pout.

Kuroo sighed and slapped Bokuto on the shoulder. “Come on, man, I’m here with you. It’s going to be fine. People do this all the time, okay? Just do it once, tell coach it’s dumb, and you’ll never have to come back. Alright?”

Bokuto sighed and gave in. “Alright.”

Kuroo patted him again, then planted a hand between Bokuto’s shoulderblades and pushed him toward the door.

Bokuto stumbled forward without his former resistance, though he still didn’t look happy about it. He refused to be happy about it. Coach wasn’t making the rest of the team do something this stupid. They were all going to make fun of him during practice tomorrow. 

Bokuto knew he got a little carried away sometimes during games. He couldn’t really help it; he was just an emotional person. In high school it hadn’t been much of an issue. His former coach had let him have as much time as he’d needed to recover, and then he was better than ever.

University was different. The coach tended to yell at him a lot more, and during his third breakdown he’d been benched for the rest of the game. It was the first time Bokuto’s ass had been on a bench since middle school, and it only made his mood worse.

He was dragged down even further when, after the match, the coach ordered him to engage in some sort of activity that would help him relax and focus.

Unfortunately, the activity that coach insisted on was yoga.

He and Kuroo stopped just inside the door to scan the room beyond. There were more people than Bokuto had expected. Eighty percent of them were females. They were sitting on mats, talking to one another or doing preemptive stretches or shooting off a few last-minute texts before class began. The mats were arranged in neat rows, and most of them were already taken. There was an empty spot at the extreme front of the room, and one at the back corner. 

Bokuto turned to Kuroo to again suggest that they just leave and lie to coach about attending the class, but Kuroo was already shoving him toward the front. 

“Go on up, Bo,” he said. He wasn’t looking at Bokuto. His attention was reserved for the vacant mat in the back; or, rather, the cluster of fit college girls who surrounded the mat in the back. 

He started to walk away, his crooked, charming smirk already in place.

Bokuto grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

“No way, dude!” hissed Bokuto. He tried to be quiet, but his voice wasn’t really made for it. Several of the other class attendees looked up at them with a blend of curiosity and suspicion. “I am _not_ going to the front. It’s not fair.”

“Bo, listen.” Kuroo set his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders. He had that serious look on his face that everyone else believed, but Bokuto knew it was just a ruse. “We’re here so you can learn to relax. If you’re right behind the instructor then you’re going to learn more. If you’re all the way in the back, surrounded by people, you’re going to get distracted. I’m just looking out for you here.”

Bokuto scowled at him.

“Besides,” said Kuroo, “I call dibs.”

He stepped back, tipped Bokuto a sly wink, and headed to the back of the room.

“You’re the worst friend, Kuroo!” Bokuto called after him.

If everyone hadn’t been staring before, they certainly were now.

Bokuto’s shoulders slumped as he trekked to the front of the room and dropped onto the available mat. The girl on his left was young and cute. When Bokuto glanced over she was taking a selfie, complete with a coy wink and a peace sign. On his right was a man that appeared to be around the age of sixty. Bokuto tried to take comfort in that. At least he’d do better than the old man.

Bokuto pulled his phone out to check the time. The class should be starting soon. He placed his cell at the edge of the mat so it wouldn’t fall out of the pocket of his sweatpants. Most of the other people in the room were wearing curve-hugging, tight-fitting clothing. The tightest things that Bokuto owned were his kneepads and his skinny jeans, and he felt neither of those were appropriate for the occasion. 

He looked over his shoulder, past the several rows of people behind him, and picked Kuroo out of the crowd.

Kuroo was lounging back on his mat, perfectly at ease. He was talking to a trio of girls with that stupid smile on his face that everyone always drooled over. He tossed his head to the side, slightly displacing his hair, and said something that made the girls giggle so loudly that Bokuto heard them from all the way at the front of the room.

Bokuto turned back around and scowled at the mat in front of him.

He should find a new best friend. Kuroo was the worst.

Somewhere, distantly, the sound of gentle music swirled amid the noise of human interaction. Bokuto perked up, looking around for the source as the conversations died down around him. 

There was a set of speakers in the corner of the room, on a small table that he hadn’t noticed in the midst of his sulking. There was a man walking away from them, toward the foremost mat that faced the class’s attendees. 

Bokuto looked at the man. Then he closed his eyes, counted to ten, and looked again.

“Welcome, everyone,” said the man. His voice was quiet, but the words were distinct in the sudden hush of the room. He stood and looked out at them, eyes lingering here and there, settling on Bokuto for a heart-stopping second before he moved on. “I see some new faces today. How many of you are here for the first time?”

Bokuto’s hand shot up. It made the man look at him again, and he felt warm.

“Thank you for coming,” said the man with a small bow. “My name is Akaashi Keiji and I’ll be your instructor today. If you have any questions then please feel free to speak with me after class. Let’s get started.”

Bokuto suddenly wasn’t mad at Kuroo anymore. From his front-row spot, he was almost directly in front of Akaashi Keiji. 

Kuroo had put him there to prevent distraction, but Bokuto was quite certain that it had only made things worse.

Akaashi Keiji was perhaps the most breathtaking man that Bokuto had ever seen. He had dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, flawless sun-kissed skin, and exquisite eyes that were a perfect balance between soft and sharp. His t-shirt draped loosely over his shoulders and around his waist, but Akaashi’s bare feet poked out of skin-tight black pants that left no question as to the perfect curvature of the legs beneath.

This was going to be a problem.

He turned his head to find Kuroo again, hoping to relay his thoughts with one loaded glance, but before he could make eye contact Akaashi spoke again.

“We will start with a little breathing,” said Akaashi. His tone was smooth and soothing, flowing through the air like balm. “Everyone find a comfortable sitting position. You can sit with your legs folded in a _Sukhasana_ pose, or if it suits you, you can sit on your calves in a _Virasana_ pose. Do whatever feels best for you and bring your focus to your breathing.”

He slid to the floor with the most fluidity that Bokuto had ever witnessed. He crossed his legs and Bokuto hurried to mimic him.

Akaashi’s arms rested along the length of his thighs, wrists lax at his knees. “Once you’re comfortable,” he said, “breathe in deeply.” He paused as he followed his own instructions, and Bokuto sucked in a harsh breath. “And slowly exhale. Allow your eyes to grow soft and fall closed to bring your focus inward.”

Bokuto assumed that everyone around him did as Akaashi said. He found it absolutely impossible to close his eyes, because that meant he would no longer be looking at Akaashi.

That became the theme of the class. Every single minute, while attempting to follow the given instructions, Bokuto was looking at Akaashi.

It wasn’t weird. Akaashi was the instructor, after all. Bokuto was supposed to look at him.

Just to make sure he was doing everything right, of course. Definitely not because every time that Akaashi’s gaze flickered around the room and briefly caught Bokuto’s that he felt a spark that warmed him from the inside out.

For the first ten minutes of the class, the only thing on his mind was Akaashi Keiji.

Then he discovered that yoga wasn’t quite as easy as it looks.

Bokuto, a seasoned athlete in his prime, had not been concerned about his ability to perform. In high school he had been one of the top five aces in the country. In only his first year of university he was already making a name for himself, and he had no doubt that he would become a professional player.

The ability to spike a ball with so much force that not even the opposing team’s libero had a chance to receive it, or polishing up his serve until there was a consisted thirty percent chance of a service ace, apparently had nothing to do with one’s skill level at yoga.

Bokuto had one leg folded somewhere beneath him and the other stretched out behind him in something that Akaashi called a swan pose. Bokuto didn’t feel like a swan. He felt like a badly twisted pretzel. 

“If you have the flexibility for it,” said Akaashi, still smooth and steady and unruffled, “fold over your front leg and increase the stretch in your hips.” Akaashi flowed forward like he was liquid.

Bokuto looked down at himself. He inched forward to try and imitate Akaashi, but a painful pull along his side stopped him. He looked at Akaashi again, wondering if he was doing something wrong. 

“Very good,” said Akaashi. 

Bokuto pretended that Akaashi was speaking directly to him, although he knew he was definitely not doing “very good”.

“Now push up with your back leg,” said Akaashi, demonstrating as he spoke, “send the front one back with it, and rise into a downward-facing dog.” 

Bokuto arranged his legs, glanced at Akaashi one more time, and almost short-circuited.

Akaashi’s palms were flat on the floor, hips raised, body forming a perfect triangle with the floor. His form was flawless, but that wasn’t what captured Bokuto’s attention. The angle made the hem of Akaashi’s shirt ride up. There was a slice of skin visible above the band of his pants, and Bokuto couldn’t look away. 

Akaashi sank deeper into the stretch and his shirt rode up a little more. Bokuto’s eyes widened as another swath of skin was revealed.

He felt his face burn hot and quickly ducked his head as he tried to replicate the pose. He was probably doing it wrong, but didn’t have the mental strength to look at Akaashi and check without again becoming enraptured. Instead he glanced to the side, where the sixty-year-old man had struck a pose equally as perfect as Akaashi’s.

Bokuto suddenly felt inadequate as a human being.

The class was an hour long. Bokuto made it to the end, though he remembered only about twenty percent of what he’d actually done. He did, however, remember the way that Akaashi stretched and moved, and he’d mentally catalogued it so he could reflect on the true meaning of perfection at a later date.

At the conclusion of the class, Akaashi pressed his palms together in front of his chest. “Thank you all for coming,” he said in that gentle, soothing voice. “The light in me recognizes and respects the light in all of you.” Bokuto felt warm again. Akaashi bowed slightly over his hands. “Namaste.”

There were a few quiet echoes of the sentiment and Bokuto mimicked them, though louder and with less accurate pronunciation.

The room dissolved into a slow shuffle of movement as everyone prepared to leave. Bokuto was still watching Akaashi as he crouched beside his mat and rolled it up with expert twists of his fingers. 

Someone slapped Bokuto’s shoulder and he almost jumped out of his skin.

“You know, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” said Kuroo. He grinned down at Bokuto, but his expression faltered when he noticed the dazed look in Bokuto’s eyes. “Uh, Bo? You alright?’

Bokuto nodded, not looking at him. “Yeah. I’m fine. Great. Excellent.”

Kuroo crouched and prodded Bokuto’s arm. “Dude, you look weird.” When he got no response he snapped his fingers in front of Bokuto’s face.

Bokuto absently smacked him away. “Stop, Kuroo. I’m good. I’m just… relaxed, you know? I feel good.”

Kuroo’s stare was flat with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. After I had to practically drag you in here because you thought it was stupid, and now you…” he finally followed Bokuto’s gaze to Akaashi, who had returned to the speakers and was cutting off the music. “Oh. _Oh_.” His mouth tilted with a smirk. He shoved Bokuto and said, grinning, “Looks like you discovered the joy of yoga pants, huh? I mean, not gonna lie, instructor guy is pretty fine.”

“Akaashi,” said Bokuto. The name was a reverent whisper. 

“Right,” said Kuroo. “So are you ready to go?”

Bokuto shook his head. 

Kuroo snorted. “Alright then. Give it your best shot, Bo. I’ll wait for you outside. Don’t forget your phone.”

He patted the top of Bokuto’s head as if he was a child, carefully so he wouldn’t mess up his hair and send Bokuto into a spiral of grief. Bokuto reached for the phone resting at the edge of his mat, still looking at Akaashi.

He thought he could live the rest of his life looking at Akaashi and be perfectly content.

When there were only a few people lingering in the corners of the room, trading hushed conversation, Bokuto unfolded himself from the floor and carefully approached Akaashi.

He tried to say something but the words just wouldn’t come to him.

Luckily Akaashi spoke for him. “Hello,” he said in that voice that Bokuto had grown to love in the past hour. “This is your first time in this class, right? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Bokuto. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Bokuto-san,” he said. “I’m Akaashi.”

“I know. I mean, you said that. At the beginning.” He would have slapped himself, if it hadn’t made him look even weirder. “I, uh… I liked the class. It was nice.”

Akaashi smiled a little and Bokuto felt himself melt.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You don’t seem like the usual type to practice yoga.”

“No, I’m, uh… My coach said I had to. I have mood swings sometimes and he said it might calm me down. I play volleyball,” he added, with a dash of pride. “For the university.”

“Yoga is no substitute for proper treatment,” said Akaashi, “but it will help you to expand your self-awareness. I daresay the gentle stretching is good for you, too, with the hard training you must do.”

“Yeah,” said Bokuto dumbly. “Lots of training.”

“We have classes daily,” said Akaashi. “You can pick up a schedule at the front desk if you’re interested.”

“When do you teach again?” said Bokuto.

“I have a class in the morning at six,” said Akaashi. 

Bokuto hated himself for asking. Six o’clock was too early to even be awake, much less do something that required self-focus and concentration. 

But _Akaashi_.

“At six,” Bokuto repeated. “Right. I’ll be here.”

Akaashi raised a brow. “I have other evening classes if that isn’t convenient for you, Bokuto-san.”

“No,” said Bokuto quickly. “Six is good. It’s great. I’ll be here at six.”

He knew he sounded like an idiot, but Akaashi smiled a little, so it was worth it.

“Okay then,” said Akaashi. “I’ll see you at six.”

  
  
  
  
Kuroo wouldn’t go with him. Bokuto wasn’t surprised, nor was he disappointed. Kuroo was his best friend and Bokuto would follow him to the ends of the earth, but he didn’t really want Kuroo to make fun of him for ogling his yoga teacher for a full hour. 

He didn’t need anyone else to make fun of him. His entire team had done that when he’d shown up for practice that evening.

At least Kuroo hadn’t told them about Akaashi. Their jabs were directed at yoga in general. Bokuto bore the teasing as gracefully as he could manage, and eventually the coach declared that the next person to crack a joke at Bokuto’s expense would have to run laps. 

That shut them up.

Akaashi didn’t teach any classes on Sundays, but Bokuto went back to the yoga studio on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday. He talked to Akaashi after every class, and each time he felt that he sounded just a little less like a complete idiot. Akaashi didn’t seem bothered by him. He always gave Bokuto at least one of those small, rare smiles, and Bokuto’s heart spasmed every time.

After a week of this, Bokuto decided that he wanted to ask Akaashi out. He should have talked to Kuroo about it, because Kuroo was good at that kind of thing. Women (and some men) always fell all over him. It was something about Kuroo’s rogue charm that drew them in. That tended to fade after they realized what a huge nerd he actually was, but he’d always had success in the initial stages of a relationship.

He should have asked Kuroo for advice, but he was kind of afraid. Bokuto wasn’t stupid. He knew Akaashi was out of his league, and he didn’t want to hear Kuroo tell him that. There was no point for him to even chase after Akaashi. Akaashi could do so much better. Akaashi could have anyone he wanted.

Maybe he already had someone, and Bokuto was wasting his time altogether.

Still, when class ended on Friday and Bokuto murmured the now familiar “Namaste” under his breath, he decided that he would give it a shot anyway. The worst-case scenario was that Akaashi would laugh at him. 

At least he’d get to hear Akaashi laugh, so it wouldn’t be all bad.

Akaashi appeared unsurprised when Bokuto approached him after class. He didn’t seem to be annoyed, though, so Bokuto took that as a good sign.

“How was class, Bokuto-san?” said Akaashi as he switched off the music. In the absence of the soothing sounds, the room was suddenly much quieter.

Bokuto glanced around. Everyone else had already left.

“It was good,” said Bokuto. “I liked the tree things. Even though I’m really bad at them.”

Akaashi smiled, and Bokuto’s heart swelled.

“It takes practice,” said Akaashi. “Balance isn’t something that you develop overnight. Your athletic history does give you an advantage.”

Bokuto wondered if Akaashi remembered he played volleyball, or if he’d just noticed Bokuto’s muscles. Either way, he was thrilled.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“I was wondering if you, uh…” Bokuto stumbled over the words. Akaashi looked at him expectantly, face a mask of patience. Bokuto swallowed. There wasn’t a single flaw on Akaashi’s face. He was _too_ perfect. There was no way he would agree to go out with Bokuto. “Uh… just… nevermind.” He felt his face burn as he looked away. He turned so Akaashi wouldn’t see the flames dancing across his face. It wouldn’t do any good, though. Kuroo had told him multiple times that when he blushed it traveled all the way to the back of his neck. “I’ll see you later, Akaashi.”

He was halfway to the door when Akaashi said, “Bokuto-san?”

He turned a little, just enough to see Akaashi from the corner of his eye.

“I do private lessons, too,” said Akaashi quietly. “If you’re interested.”

“Private lessons?”

Akaashi nodded. There was a brightness in his eyes that Bokuto couldn’t place. “Yes. I don’t offer them to everyone, so you can’t schedule them at the front desk. I have plenty of time on Sunday, if you’d like. The first one is free.”

It took Bokuto approximately one second to decide. He thought about being alone in a room with Akaashi, undergoing private lessons. He imagined Akaashi correcting him if he did something wrong, perhaps wrapping those long fingers around Bokuto’s wrist to adjust his posture. 

“Okay!” he said, a little too loudly. “Yeah, that sounds great!”

Akaashi smiled. “Alright, Bokuto-san. Let me write down my address for you.”

“Your… your address?”

“Yes. I have a room in my apartment that I use as a studio. I prefer to do private lessons there, since I don’t offer them to everyone. Unless you feel uncomfortable with that, then we can-”

“No!” said Bokuto quickly. “No, that’s fine, that’s good.”

Akaashi scribbled down his address, arranged a time for the appointment, and left Bokuto with a hot, fluttering feeling of anticipation.

His coach had been wrong about yoga. There was nothing relaxing about it. In fact, Bokuto was fairly certain it was going to give him a heart condition at a young age.

  
  
  
  
Sunday came soon, but not nearly soon enough.

Kuroo made suggestive comments about the private session for approximately three hours. Bokuto snapped at him to shut up every time, but not before he blushed brilliantly at the innuendos.

He was trying not to think of Akaashi like that. It wasn’t going to be easy to get through a private lesson without thinking about the shape of his legs or the length of his fingers or the curve of his smile, but Bokuto was going to try.

Akaashi was being nice to him, and Bokuto didn’t want to make it awkward.

On Sunday when he arrived at the address that Akaashi had given him, probably more nervous than he should have been, he stood outside the door for four minutes before he mustered the nerve to knock.

Once he rapped against the door, it was only a few seconds before Akaashi appeared.

“Hello, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto’s mouth went dry. 

Akaashi was wearing those pants again, the ones that he both loved and hated. As opposed to his usual loose t-shirt, however, he wore a tank top that scooped low and revealed a tempting peek at slightly tanned collarbones. 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him and Bokuto finally made himself move. He toed off his shoes just inside the door and nudged them beside the few pairs already placed there. They all looked to be the same size, and he hoped that meant that Akaashi lived here alone.

It wouldn’t be good for him if Akaashi’s boyfriend or girlfriend or partner walked in while Bokuto was ogling him.

“This is a nice place,” said Bokuto when he finally managed to find his voice. All of the windows were open, allowing sunlight to filter inside. Plants were arranged at strategic locations, cool green leaves and colorful flowers soaking in the warm light. Everything was arranged and organized and neat, just like Akaashi.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he said. “My studio is just through here.”

Bokuto followed him. He tried to look at the apartment, but his eyes kept sticking to Akaashi’s shoulders. Akaashi’s upper body didn’t look that strong, but Bokuto had personally witnessed him perform poses that even Bokuto couldn’t hold for more than two seconds. He wanted to run his hands along Akaashi’s shoulders and arms and back, to see if he could feel the strength that he couldn’t see.

Akaashi opened a door and stepped back. “After you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto entered, and came to a stop only three paces inside. If the rest of the apartment was bright, then this room was blindingly brilliant. The walls were all windows, blinds raised to welcome the spring sunshine. The floor was tatami, and two identical yoga mats were side-by-side in the middle of the floor.

“Wow,” said Bokuto. “This is really cool.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He stepped inside and slid the door closed behind them. “I usually prefer to practice here at night, but daytime seems better for you. You’re bright, like the sun.”

Bokuto whipped around to look at him but Akaashi was already moving past, headed toward the mats. He settled onto one of them with an absolute grace that Bokuto could never hope to match. “What would you like to practice, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto hurried to sit beside him, dropping onto the other mat with a great deal more clumsiness. “I, uh… I don’t care. Whatever you want to do.”

Akaashi glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “I agreed to give you a private lesson. That means you get to decide what you’d like to work on.”

“Right,” said Bokuto dumbly. He looked at the windows. The sun was at just the right height that it slanted at an angle, sparing them from a face full of bright light. He wondered what it was like in that room at night, when Akaashi liked to practice. Maybe the moonlight lit up the windows instead, in a softer, gentler light that was more like Akaashi. “How about, uh… Can we just do the breathing stuff first? I like that part.”

“Of course, Bokuto-san.” 

Bokuto could only see Akaashi’s face in profile, but he was certain that Akaashi was smiling.

Akaashi led him through the basic beginnings of a session. It was different, because Bokuto was used to Akaashi being in front of him. This arrangement was good because Bokuto couldn’t outright gawk at him, but it was also a little disappointing because Bokuto couldn’t outright gawk at him. 

When they’d progressed into some basic poses, Bokuto found himself in a forward fold, fingers dangling a pathetic ten centimeters from the ground. 

“I still can’t touch the floor,” he grumbled. 

“It’s fine, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi.

Bokuto didn’t look over at him. He was intimately familiar with the way Akaashi’s forward folds looked. He could bend so far over that his chest would press against the front of his thighs. 

“It’s not fine,” said Bokuto. He tried not to sound whiny, but wasn’t sure that he quite succeeded. “I suck at this.”

Akaashi made a low humming sound that might have almost been a laugh. “You just need to relax,” said Akaashi. There was a low sound, the brush of feet against the tatami floor. Then Akaashi’s hands were on Bokuto’s shoulders and he almost choked. “Just sink into it,” said Akaashi, his fingers gently rolling against Bokuto’s tense muscles. “You’re too stiff.”

Akaashi touching him only made Bokuto even more stiff, but he didn’t complain. This was the first time Akaashi had ever touched him and he was not going to give him a reason to stop.

He tried to do as Akaashi said, focusing on the sensation of Akaashi’s warm hands traveling down his shoulderblades to press into the center of his back. The feeling was enrapturing, intoxicating.

Then, all at once, the pressure was gone.

Bokuto counted to five, then unfolded and stood upright. Akaashi was behind him, his bare feet at the edge of Bokuto’s mat.

“Akaashi?” said Bokuto. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m sorry I can’t do it. I’m trying, I swear.”

“Bokuto-san, you’re ridiculous.”

Bokuto’s breath caught as he was nearly flung into a panic. What had he done wrong? He wasn’t any worse than usual. Was it because this was a private lesson and Akaashi expected him to do better? Was he disappointing Akaashi? He didn’t know how to fix it. He was doing the best he could. He was-

Akaashi moved closer and his hands were on Bokuto’s shoulders again, kneading into the muscles.

Bokuto forgot what breathing felt like. Akaashi was less than a step away. At that distance Bokuto could see his dark lashes, curving perfectly away from his eyes. There were a few very subtle freckles across his left cheek, blending with his skin tone. A single piece of hair curled against his forehead. 

“Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi quietly. 

Bokuto felt the words against his lips, light as air, and remembered to take a breath.

“I can help you relax,” said Akaashi. His hands moved to Bokuto’s neck, sliding across skin with gentle pressure. They stilled when his fingers were in the edges of Bokuto’s hair, his thumbs resting beside Bokuto’s ears. “Would you like that?”

Bokuto almost nodded, but he didn’t want to displace Akaashi’s hands. Instead he swallowed and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He wasn’t sure what Akaashi meant, but he definitely didn’t expect to be kissed.

Akaashi smoothed his lips against Bokuto’s, and it was all that Bokuto could do to not sink to the floor.

He remained upright, forgetting to breathe again as Akaashi pulled back and looked at him.

“Is this okay?” Akaashi asked, softly. “You seemed interested, but if I was wrong-”

“You weren’t,” said Bokuto, the words rushed. “You weren’t wrong. You were very not wrong. I can’t even explain how not wrong you were.”

Akaashi smiled, and it was brighter than the sun streaming through the windows. “Good,” he said simply. Then his mouth was on Bokuto’s again, and Bokuto scraped together the presence of mind to kiss him back.

Akaashi Keiji was a contradiction. He was gentle, yet strong. Subtle, yet powerful. Quiet, yet insistent. 

He was more complex than anyone Bokuto had ever met, and Bokuto hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface.

When Akaashi’s fingers found their way beneath the hem of Bokuto’s shirt, spreading hot trails along the dips of the abs beneath, Bokuto pulled back from the kiss with a gasp.

Akaashi simply looked up at him. His hands had stilled, fingers splayed against Bokuto’s stomach. “Would you like me to stop?”

Bokuto licked his lips. “No. No, don’t stop.”

Akaashi’s hands eased up a little further, smoothing along Bokuto’s sides. “Would you like to go somewhere more comfortable?”

Something warm twisted in Bokuto’s stomach. He hoped that meant what he thought it meant. “I, uh… yeah, if you… if you want to.”

Akaashi smiled at him. His hands left Bokuto’s shirt, which was disappointing. But then he clasped Bokuto’s hand in one of his and led him back through the apartment.

Bokuto’s heart skipped about six beats when Akaashi pulled him through the door of his bedroom.

His nerves didn’t have time to overwhelm him because Akaashi was kissing him again, his mouth moving with a touch more insistence. 

Bokuto’s hands hovered uselessly. He couldn’t decide if he was allowed to touch Akaashi or not, but Akaashi didn’t have any such reservations. His hands were back beneath Bokuto’s shirt, tracing the lines of his stomach and sides and chest. Tentatively, Bokuto put his hands on Akaashi’s hips. He received a hum of satisfaction and assumed the contact was okay.

Akaashi’s tongue traced Bokuto’s bottom lip and he opened his mouth in response. Akaashi pressed up against him and soon all he could taste or feel or think about was Akaashi.

Bokuto wasn’t completely inexperienced. He’d dated a few people, and slept with a few more. 

Akaashi was different, though, and he felt a jolt of sensation every time Akaashi moved.

Akaashi slipped his tongue out of Bokuto’s mouth and pulled away just long enough to yank Bokuto’s shirt over his head. He didn’t resist, and Akaashi stepped back to quietly admire the musculature that had been hidden beneath the shirt. 

“Can I…?” said Bokuto hesitantly, half-reaching toward Akaashi.

Akaashi gripped the bottom of his tank top and shucked it off in one quick motion.

Bokuto already knew Akaashi was fit, but knowing and seeing were painfully different. He wasn’t muscular like Bokuto, but he was shaped beautifully with a quiet, powerful strength. 

“Akaashi,” said Bokuto, because it was the only word that he seemed to remember.

Akaashi took his wrist and pulled him forward. “Come here, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto followed along like a sheep, not resisting as Akaashi pushed him down onto the bed. He bounced once and scooted back into the middle of the mattress.

Then he had a lap full of Akaashi, and his mouth was again filled with his tongue and his taste. 

This time he gripped Akaashi’s hips without hesitation, thumbs brushing over the skin just above the band of his pants. 

Akaashi hummed in approval and rutted down against Bokuto.

Bokuto made a sound that he would later be embarrassed by.

Akaashi nipped at Bokuto’s lip before he pulled back. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asked. His arms were looped loosely around Bokuto’s neck. “We don’t really know each other very well.”

“It’s fine,” said Bokuto. He sounded like he’d just ran laps. “It’s good. We don’t, but… I’d like to get to know you. Not just like this, either. Like, as a person, too. You’re really cool, Akaashi.”

Akaashi’s eyes seemed darker than usual. It was probably because his pupils were double their usual size. “We can stop, then,” he said, “and wait until you know me as a person.”

Bokuto’s grip on Akaashi’s hips loosened. Stopping was the last thing he wanted, but if Akaashi wanted to wait…

Akaashi grinned. It was sharper than the smiles Bokuto had witnessed before, almost menacing. “I’m kidding, Bokuto-san,” he said. His voice was low, almost a rasp. “We’re not stopping unless you say so.”

“I’m not going to say so,” said Bokuto. He was too far gone to realize how tangled his words sounded.

Akaashi was on him again, his tongue flicking against the roof of Bokuto’s mouth, fingers traveling into Bokuto’s hair. He shifted his weight forward and forced Bokuto onto his back. They were fitted together from their mouths to their knees, and Bokuto felt the heat of Akaashi’s groin pressed against his own.

This was better than any wet dream Bokuto had ever had, because he never could’ve imagined someone as perfect as Akaashi.

Akaashi sat back on his heels and started peeling off his tight pants. Bokuto watched, enraptured, as more and more of Akaashi was revealed.

When he’d finished and the pants were on the floor, Bokuto could only stare.

Akaashi didn’t wear underwear when he did yoga. His legs were as perfect bare as they were clothed, and literally every single part of Akaashi Keiji was flawless.

Bokuto still hadn’t stopped staring when Akaashi hooked his fingers into the band of Bokuto’s sweatpants and tugged. Bokuto lifted his hips to facilitate the pull, and a moment later he was naked, too.

Akaashi raised an eyebrow as he studied him, darkened gaze sweeping down to the cut of Bokuto’s hipbones and then lower. 

Bokuto fidgeted a little beneath the scrutiny, relaxing only when Akaashi looked away to crawl to the night stand by the bed. 

Akaashi had to bend over a little to reach inside the drawer, and Bokuto had a spectacular view of his ass. He wanted to reach out and see if it was as firm as it looked, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to do that. Akaashi seemed comfortable with this – much more comfortable than Bokuto, who still wasn’t certain that he wasn’t going to be launched into cardiac arrest at any given moment – but Bokuto still didn’t want to push his limits. Just doing whatever Akaashi wanted to do was enough for him. It was more than he’d expected.

Obviously he was entranced by Akaashi, but he wasn’t quite sure why Akaashi was attracted to him in return.

Akaashi turned back, supplies balanced in his palm, and all of Bokuto’s thoughts drifted into pleasant white noise. 

“Are you ready, Bokuto-san?” asked Akaashi. His smile was curved, wry. “I’m going to teach you how to relax.”

Bokuto’s eyes darted from that smile, to the lube in Akaashi’s hand, to the way that Akaashi hovered slightly over Bokuto, who was still lying on his back.

“Oh,” said Bokuto. Realization clicked into place with a sound so mentally deafening that he was surprised Akaashi couldn’t hear it. “Oh. You want to… oh.”

Akaashi’s smile flattened into a serious line. “If that’s not what you want,” he started, “you don’t have to-”

“No, no, it’s fine,” said Bokuto, the words blurring together. “We can do that, we can do whatever you want. It’s fine, it’s good.”

Akaashi considered him, as if seeking the honesty in those rushed words. Then his mouth curved again, just a little, and he trailed a fingertip along the length of Bokuto’s dick.

Bokuto shuddered beneath the touch and Akaashi settled between Bokuto’s legs. He tossed a condom to the side and popped open the lube. Bokuto pushed up on his elbows and watched as Akaashi drizzled both of his hands with it. He wasn’t certain what Akaashi was doing until he circled one hand around Bokuto’s length, the lube making the slide silky smooth. Bokuto flopped back and clenched his jaw to keep from moaning. A weak sound escaped his lips anyway. 

Akaashi pumped slowly as his other hand dipped between Bokuto’s legs, wet fingers drawing slow circles around his entrance. 

“You’re too tense, Bokuto-san,” said Akaashi. He pressed a kiss to Bokuto’s inner thigh, and when he pulled away there was a scrape of teeth. Bokuto jolted beneath him. “Just relax. Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” said Bokuto. He wanted to say more, but his ability to speak was compromised when Akaashi eased a finger inside him.

It wasn’t as if Bokuto hadn’t experienced this before. He’d bottomed a time or two, although it usually wasn’t his preference.

With Akaashi, though, he felt anything that required Akaashi to touch him would be his preference.

He gripped the sheets and took deep breaths as Akaashi worked him open, his free hand still loosely gliding along Bokuto’s length. 

Akaashi moved at an almost painfully slow pace. Bokuto appreciated it since his body wasn’t used to doing this very often, but at the same time he was certain that it was going to kill him.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi?” he said, propping up on one elbow to look at him. Akaashi looked amazing nestled between Bokuto’s legs, his eyes dark, lips slightly parted.

“Yes, Bokuto-san?” His voice was composed, but there was heat curling beneath his words that made Bokuto weak. 

“You know you can go faster.”

“Yes, I know.”

As if in spite, he twisted his fingers, slid them out at an alarmingly slow pace, and then eased them back in even more slowly.

Bokuto made a sound that was definitely _not_ a whimper.

Akaashi looked up at him with dark amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You’re teasing me,” Bokuto said, the words hollow. 

“I’m just trying to make you relax,” said Akaashi. “Isn’t that the point?”

Bokuto tried to respond, but Akaashi pushed his fingers in more deeply and brushed up at an angle that made Bokuto go rigid.

He clamped his lips shut to muffle the strangled sound caught in his throat. When he managed to prop himself up again, Akaashi was smiling.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” said Bokuto weakly. 

Akaashi tilted his head and twisted his hand around the head of Bokuto’s dick on his upstroke. “Doing what, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto groaned and flopped back down. He was probably going to die beneath Akaashi’s unique brand of torture, but at least he would die happy.

Akaashi chuckled, and it was warm and deep and intoxicating. Both of his hands left Bokuto, and for a moment Bokuto feared that Akaashi was done with him.

Then there was the crinkling sound of the condom being torn open. Bokuto looked up in time to see Akaashi spit a strip of the foil onto the bed. His hands had been so slicked up that he’d opened it with his teeth.

Bokuto had thought he’d already reached the peak of possible attraction, but it burned even more hotly beneath his skin.

He followed Akaashi’s movements as he rolled the condom on, his slick hands sliding excess lube along his length. Akaashi looked up to meet Bokuto’s eyes, and dark electricity passed between them.

“Are you ready, Bokuto-san?”

“Yes,” said Bokuto. “Yes, definitely, please.”

Akaashi leaned over him, one hand planted into the mattress beside Bokuto’s ribs, the other pressed against Bokuto’s chest. “Come here.”

Bokuto obeyed so quickly that he almost smashed their faces together. Akaashi pulled back just enough to prevent disaster. Their mouths fitted together perfectly, lips sliding and teeth pulling.

While Bokuto was busy memorizing the texture of Akaashi’s tongue against his own, he felt Akaashi begin to press into him.

He sucked in a breath, automatically going stiff. Akaashi nudged Bokuto’s head to one side and pressed a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone. “Relax,” he mumbled against Bokuto’s skin, his tongue swirling in interesting patterns. “Trust me, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto melted into the sensation of Akaashi’s lips on his neck, and gradually Akaashi sank in deeper until he was pressed flush against Bokuto.

Their chests heaved together as they panted out matched breaths. Akaashi was still composed – Bokuto doubted if he ever actually lost control of himself – but he was gasping a little, and his pupils were blown wide, and he looked just a little bit wrecked.

He was even more beautiful than Bokuto had thought he was.

Akaashi’s breath was hot on Bokuto’s neck. Bokuto wriggled beneath him until he could coax Akaashi up to kiss him again. Somewhere in the middle of the kiss Akaashi moved, sliding subtly out of Bokuto, so slowly that he hardly noticed. When he thrust in again it was firm but not rough, solid but not harsh. Bokuto moaned, and Akaashi swallowed the sound.

Akaashi kept a steady pace. He propped himself up with one hand and used the other to grip Bokuto’s hip, the excess lube on his palm smearing against Bokuto’s skin. 

Bokuto rolled his hips gently, meeting Akaashi’s thrusts, one hand cupped against the side of Akaashi’s neck. 

When he was actively moving, Bokuto could see Akaashi’s muscles sliding beneath his skin. They were lean and subtle and entrancing. His type of strength was the opposite of Bokuto’s, but it was strength nonetheless. 

“’Kaashi,” said Bokuto, barely finding his own voice. “You’re really pretty.”

Akaashi smiled down at him, the fond curve of his lips a contradiction to the heat burning in his eyes. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He gave a particularly sharp thrust and Bokuto threw his head back with a groan.

“I like those sounds you make, too,” said Akaashi, mouthing at Bokuto’s neck. “Do it again.”

He rammed his hips forward, burying himself more deeply, and Bokuto moaned in earnest. “ _Akaashi_.”

“Would you like me to go faster?” said Akaashi. His voice was polite, as if he was asking about the weather over tea.

“Yes, ‘Kaashi, _yes_.”

Bokuto braced himself, but instead of speeding up, Akaashi stopped.

Akaashi sat up on his knees, hands sliding down Bokuto’s stomach and across his muscular thighs. He looped his arms beneath Bokuto’s knees and spread them apart, holding them easily in place. 

The only warning that Bokuto received was a curve of Akaashi’s lips.

Then Akaashi slammed into him and he gripped at the sheets with a moan. 

Akaashi’s new pace was unrelenting. He pounded into Bokuto, hips pistoning forward, sweat beading along his forehead. After every thrust he subtly shifted his grip on Bokuto’s knees, adjusting the slant, until finally he struck at just the right angle and Bokuto jerked beneath him with a sharp cry.

Satisfied, Akaashi tightened his grip and went harder.

Bokuto’s moans spilled over his lips like broken pleas. They were interspersed with syllables of Akaashi’s name, wrapped in throaty desperation. 

When Akaashi released one of Bokuto’s knees to stroke his dick, Bokuto arched into him with a loud, beseeching, “ _Please_ , Akaashi, _please_.”

Akaashi pumped him a few times and Bokuto came, spewing between Akaashi’s fingers and onto his own chest. Bokuto collapsed back, panting, boneless. 

Akaashi traced his fingers along the side of Bokuto’s ribs, down his hip, and along his thigh, spreading traces of come.

“You can keep going,” said Bokuto between gasps. “I want you to… to finish.”

Akaashi tilted his head to the side and pressed a kiss against Bokuto’s knee. “Are you sure, Bokuto-san?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, I’m definitely sure.”

Akaashi smiled against Bokuto’s skin. Then he thrust into him again, and again, until Bokuto was a moaning, oversensitive mess beneath him and Akaashi was coming, hard.

Akaashi pulled out, and his fingers trembled as he removed the condom and tied it off. Bokuto hadn’t moved, and he said, “Bokuto-san? Are you okay?”

Bokuto made a groaning sound that seemed to be an affirmative. 

Akaashi smiled and sidled up to him, propping himself on his side to view Bokuto’s slack expression. “Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto cracked one eye open, then turned his head to the side to look at Akaashi properly. “Yeah?”

“You look very relaxed now.”

Bokuto smiled. “Yeah. Very relaxed.”

“We can probably finish our private lesson now.”

“Oh,” said Bokuto. “Oh, well, if you…”

He trailed off as Akaashi started laughing. When he realized Akaashi had been joking, he started laughing, too.

They dozed off on Akaashi’s bed. Bokuto was still sticky with come, but the warmth of Akaashi pressed against his side made it difficult to be discontent about anything.

  
  
  
  
When Bokuto arrived home later that day, Kuroo was on the couch with the exact bag of chips that their coach had forbidden them from eating. Kuroo shrugged off Bokuto’s narrow-eyed stare.

“It’s the last bag,” said Kuroo, rattling the chips in his direction. “I’m not just going to throw it away. That’s wasteful.”

His logic was sound. Bokuto reached over the couch for a handful of chips and stuffed them into his mouth.

Kuroo eyed him up and down as he chewed. “You look like you’re in a good mood,” he said. “I guess your private lesson went well?”

Bokuto grinned through his mouthful. “Yeah,” he said, spraying some spit-dampened crumbs on the back of the couch. He swallowed and continued. “It was good.” He was afraid to say more, because he knew the stupid grin on his face would give him away. Kuroo had always been able to read him like an open book.

He turned away and went into their shared bathroom, then emerged to drop onto the couch beside Kuroo.

He was intensely aware of Kuroo’s eyes on him, tracking his every motion.

“You’re walking a little funny,” said Kuroo with a raised brow. “Did you pull something?”

Bokuto bit down on his lip. “No.”

Kuroo stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth, still eyeing Bokuto.

When realization struck him, he spat chips all over the floor. “Dude!” he shouted, flinging the bag of chips to the side. “Did you fuck the hot yoga teacher?”

Bokuto felt his face burn and couldn’t fight the grin tugging at his mouth.

“Oh my god, you did!” Kuroo crowed, overjoyed. “No, wait. You’re walking like you have a stick up your ass. Oh my god, you had hot yoga guy’s stick up your ass. _He_ fucked _you_!”

Kuroo burst into ugly laughter. Bokuto shoved him halfway off the couch, trying to look angry, but he couldn’t stop grinning. “Shut up, dude!”

“Bo,” said Kuroo, breathless from the force of his laughter. “Hot yoga guy fucked you.”

“His name is Akaashi!”

“Akaashi fucked you.”

“Well, he… yeah.”

Kuroo leaned into him, bumping their shoulders together. “Way to go, Bo. How was it?”

“I have another private lesson next week.”

Kuroo gave him a fist bump. “I’m so proud. Bring Akaashi around for dinner. I need to officially meet the guy who’s banging my best bro.”

“Shut up, Kuroo.” It was said through a smile.

Bokuto lounged back on the couch, accepted another handful of chips, and thought about Akaashi. This time when Akaashi had offered a private lesson, Bokuto knew what he actually meant.

Akaashi had promised that next week he would show Bokuto just how flexible he really was.

Bokuto didn’t think he was going to be able to wait until next week.


End file.
